


The Arena

by kateyes085



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes085/pseuds/kateyes085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron has been mooching off his cousin Saxa for far too long and she’s going to kick him out unless he gets a job. He’s got a week to find something that pays, but in this slow economy, no one is hiring. Finally, down on his luck and with no other option, Agron decides to bite the bullet and try stripping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Arena

**Author's Note:**

> So, there was this [prompt](http://fuckingsyrian.tumblr.com/post/24050956739/onlymywishfulthinking-mcleods-daughters-6x03) awhile ago … and I kind of tweaked it a little-ish.

~*~

 

Agron settles in front of the TV with a large bowl of Frosted Flakes and the remote to watch The Flintstones.  He is halfway through the show and his breakfast when an empty carton of milk hits him in the head and his cousin Saxa is screeching at him, "How many fucking times do I have to tell you Agron!  Throw away the goddamned carton if it's empty.  DON'T put it back in the fridge.  Jesus and while we're at it," she started.  _Oh shit here we go_ , he thinks.  "When the hell are you gonna get a job?  I don't have a problem with you crashing here, but you've gotta come up with some money," she snaps at him from next to the TV, arms folded across her chest as she glares a hole into his being.

 

Agron swallows the mouthful of half chewed cereal and milk heavily, "Saxa, it's not like I'm not trying.  I've been trying to find something, but it really sucks out there," he whines. 

 

"What about The Arena?" Mira asks from the doorway. 

 

Agron's head snaps back to look at Saxa's girlfriend over his shoulder, "The strip joint?" he squeaks in response.  

 

Mira snorts in response.  "What?  It's not that bad a place to work," she defends. 

 

"You're the bartender.  Besides … isn’t it a gay bar?" Agron asks suspiciously.  He flinches and grimaces when he is struck between the eyes with the remote control by Saxa. "I'm sorry!" he yelps.  "I didn't mean it like that," he pleads dodging the encyclopedias his cousin is whirling at him was deadly accuracy. 

 

~*~

 

Agron is standing backstage at The Arena turning a pale shade of green waiting to make his entrance.  Saxa is there rubbing baby oil into his skin before he puts on the way too tight t-shirt that she picked out.  He can barely breathe in the jeans her and Mira picked out.  Mira bobs and weaves through the backstage with a shot glass in hand.  "Here," she says shoving it in Agron's hand, "drink this."

 

Agron swallows it down, eyes watering and throat burning, "What is it?" he chokes and coughs. 

 

"Don't ask," she mumbles helping Saxa finish his look with an oxford buttoned up and tucked loosely in his jeans, which they were fighting with in a never-ending tug of war between opening it and then closing it again. 

 

Over the speakers, Agron hears the announcer introduce him as the next dancer.  He gulps loudly, "I don't think I can do this," he whimpers.

 

"You'll do fine Vetter[kew1] ," Saxa tells him smiling widely up at him.  "Just have fun," she says, "and shake that ass," she smirks as she slaps him hard on his backside before pushing him through the curtains. 

 

~*~

 

Donar and Nasir watched the new guy from their position in the back of the room.  He was so hilariously awkward, it was kind of endearing. 

 

Agron smiles nervously at the audience.  They start cheering and he tentatively walks out the catwalk and then back again. He stands facing away from the crowd, unbuttons a couple of buttons of his shirt.  He's blushing but smiling as he coyly looks over his shoulder yanking the back shirttails out with a hip thrust and lets it hang over his butt.  Turns back around, pulls the front shirttails out, and pulls the shirt hard, snapping off the rest of the buttons.  The sultry combination of flaunt and nervous awkwardness had the crowd going wild.  Agron's face is bright red, but he is still smiling and laughing at himself.  He lets the shirt fall in a pool at the back of the stage and struts with the music up the catwalk again and back in the skin tight t-shirt and jeans, the muscles of his chest and back vividly ripple underneath the taut fabric. 

 

He stands in front of the pole awkwardly shimmying up and down.  He teases the edge of his low riding jeans with his fingers, tugging and pulling the material of his t-shirt up revealing a hint of his washboard abs.  He ghosts his fingers tempting across the glistening skin that is revealed.  He grabs the ends, pulls it up, and attempts to pull it off, but the shirt gets stuck on his ears.  He succeeds and turns away from the crowd muttering curses, glaring off to the backstage.  Mira and Saxa were muffling their giggles behind their hands and waving him on. 

 

He faces the crowd again and thrusts his pelvis forward leaning back against the pole, but he miscalculates and lands flat on the stage.  To recover he starts thrusting his pelvis up from the floor so that he can catch the breathe he lost on landing.  Thankfully, he maneuvered himself back up and standing again without injury.

 

He stands in the middle of the stage at the beginning of the catwalk and teasingly runs his finger down from his lips, which are set on smirk, down his chest and stop at the button of his jeans.  He flicks it open swaying his hips, he hopes, provocatively.  One by one, he flicks open a button swaying his hips in time.  His smile his plastered in place at this point; he is nervous and terrified, but all the crowd sees is a smirk and dimples.  Shimmying slightly, he starts tugging the tight jeans over his hips, down his thighs, past his knees.  It happens really quick. One second he's seductively dancing and the next, his jeans tangle around his ankles and his feet twist in the fallen jeans, and he is yelping a pathetic whine somewhere between a whoa and a groan before landing ass-first and legs up in the middle of the stage.  He gives up and starts laughing at himself, spread eagle between the stripper pole and the catwalk. 

 

He raises his arms in the air in defeat and give a thumb up, laughing even harder.  The crowd cheers and they start throwing money and business cards at him.  He sits up, pulls his jeans back up unbuttoned, covering the garish hot pink satin thong Saxa picked out for him to wear.  He starts collecting the money, cards, and the rest of his clothes before he awkwardly bows with a smile and a blush as he jogs off stage. 

 

~*~

 

Donar and Nasir stand against the back wall near the entrance laughing at the new guy's antics on stage.  He is so hopelessly green it's hysterical.  Donar flicks a folded twenty at Nasir, "Get me an introduction," he says.  Nasir smirks and twirls the toothpick that is clenched between his teeth before he makes his way to the back. 

 

Agron is coming out from the back to get a drink when a short man with shoulder length dark hair approaches him.  He hands Agron a twenty, "Mr. Donar would like the pleasure of an introduction after closing hours," he states bluntly after removing the toothpick he has been chewing on. 

 

Agron takes in his leather biker jacket, red bandana and torn jeans before he stares at the money and answers, "Uh, I'm only here to dance dude."

 

"Mr. Donar usually pays about two hundred bucks for a lap dance nothing more.  Consider it, _dude_ ," the guy smirks at Agron.  "Oh, name's Nasir.  I'm Naevia's cousin," he says nodding to Naevia who is seated at the elevated booth in the back corner of the club with her pet, Crixus, kneeling obediently at her side.  She occasional strokes her fingers through his hair and murmurs quietly to him.  "I run the sex shop next door," he explains and digs a business card out from the inside of his black leather jacket to hand to Agron with the twenty.  "All of Naevia's employees get a discount, just so you know," he winks before he struts off. 

 

_What the hell have they gotten me into_ , Agron thinks to himself. 

 

~*~

 

Agron nervously knocks on the door to one of the private rooms upstairs.  "Come," he hears the brisk response from inside.  Mr. Donar is standing by the makeshift bar in the corner fixing himself a drink.  There is a plush chair in the center of the room with an ottoman in front of it and a small table on the side.  It was sparsely lit, and in the shadows, Agron could make out a matching couch to the chair and there was a dojo style silk screen blocking what looked to be a bed behind it. 

 

Agron swallows heavily, "Mr. – Mr. Donar?  Nasir said you wanted to see me?" he squeaks.  

 

Mr. Donar nods and takes a seat in the overstuffed chair while he takes a sip of his drink.  He waves Agron over and pats his lap. Agron hesitates.  "Just interested in a lap dance sweetheart," he states patting his lap again.  "Nasir explained things?"  Agron nods and awkwardly tries to climb onto his lap.  He gives up and turns around straddling his lap with his back to Mr. Donar.  Mr. Donar clicked on a sound system from somewhere in the room.

 

Agron thought about the money and let his mind race.  The music took over and he started to pump and grind his backside against Mr. Donar's lap.  He remembered the time he and Duro had gone to that strip club and Duro paid for those girls for the lap dance.  He tried to imitate that though he was awkward and bulky because of his size.  He leans back and wraps his arm around the back of Mr. Donar's head, running his finger lightly up into his short-cropped hair. 

 

Mr. Donar breaths in the heady mix of sweat, deodorant and whatever shampoo Agron had used for his shower.  He wraps one hand loosely around Agron's throat, holding him down.  Agron elicits a soft whimpered moan and arches into the other hand that is sliding down his chest and stops over his crotch.  Mr. Donar gently squeezes Agron's hardening cock.  "You – you said only a lap dance," Agron stutters weakly.

 

Mr. Donar worries the tender skin behind Agron's ear with his teeth, squeezing a little harder and palming the erection slowly, "Want me to stop?" he purrs into Agron's exposed ear before he sucks the earlobe into his mouth. 

 

"N-N-No…," Agron whispers.

 

Mr. Donar gently turns Agron's chin towards him and captures his lips in a searing dominating kiss. Agron melts into the kiss with a soft moan, hips pressing into Mr. Donar's manipulating hand.  "Do you want me to dominate you pet?" he asks pressing the heel of his hand against Agron's hardening flesh.  Both hands join together and unbutton Agron's jeans, feather light fingertips ghosting over the erection that is straining the denim and zipper, "Overpower you?" he whispers hotly against Agron's ear.

 

Agron's hips press forward seeking friction.  "I-I- …," he gulps.  "What're you doin' to me?" Agron gasps in sensory overload.  He does not like guys.  He never even thought about it, but this man was pushing all of his button making him want things that he had never considered as possible before.  Was he just worked up from earlier?  Working off of an adrenaline high?  All he knew was that he wanted … what, he wasn't sure, but he wanted and he wanted it now.

 

Mr. Donar ignored Agron's question and returned his hand to Agron's throat and he just held it there.  "Do you like cock, boy?

"Whhaaa …. I uh, …huh?" Agron stutters as his body shudders against the trapped sensation he feels, craving more.

 

Mr. Donar uses his thumb pressed against Agron's chin to tip his head to the side and licks a wide stripe up the side, punctuating each stripe, "Suck … my … cock," he says when he simultaneously tightens his grip on Agron's throat and cock while biting his earlobe sharply.

 

Agron does not know which end is up.  His body arches into the sensations blindly. "Please," he whimpers through the tightening at his throat. 

 

Agron collapses when Mr. Donar releases his hold on Agron's body.  He is seated upright and his hands are gripping the arms of the chair in which he is seated.  Mr. Donar leans forward and purrs into Agron's ear, "Kneel."  Agron turns his glazed, lust-filled gaze onto Mr. Donar who looks down and Agron follows his line of vision.  A cushion is placed on the floor.  Agron blinks and tries to get his bearings before he shuffles around and drops to his knees in front of Mr. Donar.  "Let's see how good you are, hmmm?" Mr. Donar coos as he works the fastenings of his leathers open and pulls out his hefty cock. 

 

Agron stares transfixed.  _What am I doing?_ , he thinks yet again.  Mr. Donar wraps his fingers around the back of Agron's head and pulls him gently forward towards his cock, which Agron moves forward the rest of the way.  He tentatively licks across the tip breathing in the warm scent of Mr. Donar, thick and potent.  He gently sucks the tip, running his tongue down the length up and around.  Mr. Donar's taste is intoxicating, he thinks.

 

Agron knows what he likes when he gets a blowjob so he simply applied those techniques as best he can.  He swallows down too fast and gags as Mr. Donar's cock hits the back of his throat.  He pulls off coughing to Mr. Donar's tittering.  His hand gently presses the back of Agron's head again.  Agron nuzzles the base of his cock, breathing him in again.  His tongue snakes out and he licks and mouths Mr. Donar's balls.  He knows he loves this but has only had it done a couple of times, most girls aren’t this adventurous.  He must have been doing something right because Mr. Donar growls and his hips roll forward seeking more attention. 

 

Agron licks from the base to the tip of Mr. Donar's cock, worrying his tongue against the bundle of nerves under the head.  He wrapped his fingers around the base and bobbed his head while working his tongue up and around.  Mr. Donar growls and his hips jerk in response.  Agron switches his grip and presses against his hips to prevent Mr. Donar from gagging him again.  It was sloppy and messy as spit and precum drip and coat Mr. Donar's cock.  His hand gently holds the back of Agron's head not forcing or eliciting pressure, just an ever-present command.  His fingers twitch and tighten in Agron's hair.  That is the only indication he gets before Mr. Donar snarls and hisses as his body stiffens.  A large slash of come hits the back of Agron's throat.  He tries to swallow it all but is not that successful. 

 

"Clean me," Mr. Donar pants with a squeeze of Agron's neck.  He proceeds to lick off the remaining come and saliva until Mr. Donar pulls him off with a hiss.  His hand drags down and cradles Agron's cheek.  The boy is a sight.  Mr. Donar strokes his thumb across Agron's swollen bottom lip.  Agron's eyes close and he shivers from the caress.  Mr. Donar's boot tip gently toes Agron's tented jeans.  "You liked it didn't you boy," he asks.  Color blossoms from Agron's neck to the tip of his ears and he ducks his head in embarrassment.  "No shame in it," he continues lifting Agron's face to look at him.  "I want to watch you to finish yourself off.  Slip your hand down into your BVD's and come for me like a good boy," he purrs. 

 

Agron follows Mr. Donar's instructions but tries to bow his head again.  Mr. Donar holds Agron's chin tightly so he can watch Agron's face.  Agron's eyes water in the shame, but he cannot seem to stop himself, so overcome with the need to please this stranger.  He bites his quivering lip.  Mr. Donar cards the fingers from his other hand through Agron's hair, "You look so beautiful like that baby boy," he murmurs taking in Agron's anguish.  His need to please, his embarrassment and his being overcome with the feeling of acceptance and relief of finding his true station; all of this played across his reddened, tear-stained face as he hiccups and quietly moans, coming in his worn denim jeans. 

 

Agron collapse against Mr. Donar's knee, "I- I don't understand," he sniffles wetly.

 

"You will baby boy.  You will," Mr. Donar assures him soothingly as he pushes Agron's sweat-soaked curls back and leans forward to place a chaste kiss on Agron's forehead.

 

~*~

* * *

 [kew1]Cousin in German

 


End file.
